How You Remind Me
by Kaihire
Summary: (Aya x Yohji, Aya x Ken) :songfic: Yohji contemplates his fate after a certain redhead leaves him to be with someone else.


Title: How You Remind Me  
  
Author: Kouryuu  
  
Chapter: 1/1  
  
Status: Complete (oneshot)  
  
Type: angst, drama, etc.  
  
Rating: PG-13, for implied stuff  
  
Pairing: Aya x Yohji, Aya x Ken; Yohji's POV.  
  
Summary: Yohji contemplates his fate after a certain redhead leaves him to be with someone else.  
  
Warnings: Depressing. . Maybe somewhat OOC, since this is my first time writing Yohji's POV. Er, and hints of abuse, maybe even S&M if you reeeally read into it...  
  
Archive: If you'd like. Please let me know where it's going. It'll be up on starry-vortex.net whenever I get around to it.  
  
C&C: Please. E-mail me at lonestarfruit@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned the bishies, they wouldn't be this depressed... and they'd all be running around in yummy bondage gear. As things stand, they belong to Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiss, Media Blasters, and other people and stuff.. o.o; The song "How You Remind Me" belongs to Nickelback and their record label. The angst belongs to Yohji. 9_9; This cruddy laptop belongs to me. Sue me, and you'll get the laptop, some Kleenex, and a baggie of Craisins. Tempting, I know.  
  
  
  
  
  
//Never made it as a wise man,  
  
I couldn't cut it as  
  
A poor man stealing  
  
Tired of living like a blind man,  
  
I'm sick of sight without  
  
A sense of feeling//  
  
I somehow never thought it would turn out quite like this. Maybe I should add "naive" to the list of words describing me. Hotheaded, stupid, a hopeless sensualist. I noticed you looking at me from the first day. Never say I'm not observant. Your burning violet eyes would slide over my body in a mixture of contempt and buried lust, and it would take all of my strength to not wither under the intensity of that look. But it was easy enough, at first. I would just say something teasing to get you to glare at me and then turn away dismissively.  
  
Turning away was what you did best. I learned that the hard way. And I didn't care, or told myself I didn't. The infamous playboy that everyone seemed to think I wanted to be, that image helped me. I would just go out and get wasted, sweet-talk my way into someone's bed, crawl home in the morning to nurse my hangover and annoy everyone with my smoking.  
  
Until something finally snapped between us.  
  
Those first few nights were incredible. I don't remember who made the first move, who touched who, whose lips initiated that blind, searing kiss. But it didn't take long for me to know –exactly- who was in charge. You were never exactly gentle. And I wouldn't have wanted you to be. I needed to be bruised, to be hurt, to be used. As long as afterwards I could just lie in your arms, feel that possessive embrace hold me securely, then it was all worth it. It was more than worth it. You demanded everything of me. You demanded my body, my thoughts, my love. I was more than happy to offer it to you.  
  
You were my universe. I would do anything for you. Even now, ven after it all.  
  
You cared, I know you did. You still do, in your way.  
  
  
  
//And this is how you remind me  
  
This is how you remind me  
  
Of what I really am  
  
This is how you remind me  
  
Of what I really am//  
  
I didn't believe you when you said, in your way, that you had found someone else. I was shocked. We'd been together for a good few months, and you had started opening up. Or so I thought. You were becoming more gentle, more concerned about me. Maybe I was just trying to fill that in. But you never said anything, one way or another, not with words. You barely ever said anything with words. It was your gestures that told volumes about you, and this... this was like a slap in the face. Because I thought I'd earned at least an explanation, a goodbye. But instead, one night, you just never showed up. I knew better than to go look for you. I wasn't brave enough. I spent the night in tears. My morning was answer enough. To walk out and see you downstairs, drinking your usual black coffee... and –him-, coming down the stairs before I could work up the courage to ask, and planting a sleepy kiss on the back of your neck before he could notice me, and when he did, blush, stumble over his words, those huge chocolate eyes nervous as he made some excuse and ran out of there.  
  
That put me in my place.  
  
  
  
//It's not like you to say sorry  
  
I was waiting on a different story  
  
This time I'm mistaken  
  
For handing you  
  
A heart worth breaking//  
  
I don't blame you. I was never angry at you. I love you too much for that. Maybe it's all some sick, twisted, masochistic core in me that keeps me hoping, that takes every look you send my way to mean that there's still a chance. And you did take pity on me once, when Ken was out on a mission... You came back to me, and it was like before, but this time... this time you didn't stay, this time the pain didn't have the sweet conclusion of me resting in your arms, this time none of your gestures were possessive.  
  
If I don't belong to you, Aya, then who the hell do I belong to? Why did you break me? Why?..  
  
  
  
//And I've been wrong  
  
I've been down  
  
Into the bottom of every bottle  
  
These five words in my head  
  
Scream  
  
Are we having fun yet?//  
  
No one noticed when I went back to my drinking and whoring. Who would have? You were too busy with Ken, he was too busy with you. Omi was always busy, and he wouldn't have noticed a difference, anyway. I'd get drunk, and come back late enough to hear those sounds you coaxed out of Ken's throat. The walls aren't that thick, Aya. And it's like a mockery to me. Because his voice never holds the note of pain that mine always did. Because when I see the two of you exchanging a light caress here and there during the day, his eyes practically glow.  
  
You never made my eyes glow like that until the aftermath. And during the day, it was back to you being a wall of ice, and me not daring to look at you.  
  
I don't understand.  
  
  
  
  
  
//It's not like you didn't know that  
  
I said I love you and  
  
I swear I still do  
  
And it must have been so bad  
  
'Cause living with him must have  
  
Damn near killed you//  
  
I love you more with every day that you walk farther and farther out of my life. Shit, I'm just fooling myself... You're already out of it completely. The door's shut, and it can't be opened. I guess I smothered you. I guess I wanted too much.  
  
...but can you really blame me? You're like a drug, Aya. People get addicted to you, and then there's this snarling, insatiable need to keep feeding the addiction. A caress, a look... hell, just walking through a room and catching your scent is enough.  
  
But maybe I threw myself in too deep, too fast. I just wanted you to know I needed you. I needed you to feel.  
  
...I needed you to need me. And that never came.  
  
  
  
//And this is how you remind me  
  
Of what I really am  
  
This is how you remind me  
  
Of what I really am//  
  
You need him, though. I can see that. The way your lips form around his name, the way the corners of your mouth soften when you talk to him, the way your eyes look more like hard amethyst and more like soft lilacs...  
  
Why not me, Aya?  
  
Is it because, at first, I tried to be the tough one? Because I would go out and get wasted anyway?  
  
That was just because I was scared. Scared of loving you too much, of finally finding my answer, my desire, my contentment.  
  
You hit me. Hard. And it just made me respect you more, because you knew that it's what I wanted. It hurt you more, I think. You flinched, and your fingertips trailed over the bruise on my jaw so gently, and you actually –smiled- when I swore, between my tears, that I'd never do it again, that I'd never incite you.  
  
I didn't lie. And you never, ever hit me again. It was like a pact. And I thought it made you happy.  
  
  
  
//It's not like you to say sorry  
  
I was waiting on a different story  
  
This time I'm mistaken  
  
For handing you  
  
A heart worth breaking  
  
And I've been wrong  
  
I've been down  
  
Into the bottom of every bottle//  
  
Would you just... look at me again? Just once?  
  
Just to let me know that at least at some point, to some minor degree, I meant something?  
  
I know I did. I must have. Because you never do anything without a reason. You're not the type to just humor someone. Especially not someone like me.  
  
But these days, you don't even look at me. You only look at him. And I want to hate you. I want to hate –him-.  
  
And of course, I can't. I can only sit back, push my sunglasses back up my nose, hide the tears.  
  
I can only smile bitterly and rejoice that you've found what you need.  
  
  
  
And hate myself, because it's not me.  
  
  
  
//These five words in my head  
  
Scream  
  
Are we having fun yet?//  
  
In a purely masochistic way, this makes me happier. I know I never deserved your attentions. But having them was so damn sweet... the way your eyes burned into mine, the way your mouth seared against my skin, I knew deep down that it was all too good to last, that it would either kill me or kill you.  
  
But still, I'm selfish. I wanted it, I needed it to live. I gave everything to you, -everything-, Aya... and you gave me a reason to live. A reason to put away the alcohol, to put away the cigarettes, to actually watch out on missions.  
  
Because if I did, if I took care of myself, then I could just crawl into your arms and feel wanted. I could bury my face against your neck and be in heaven. I knew that you'd never let me hurt myself. I knew it. And you never did.  
  
  
  
//Never made it as a wise man  
  
I couldn't cut it as  
  
A poor man stealing  
  
And this is how you remind me...  
  
This is how you remind me...  
  
This is how you remind me  
  
Of what I really am  
  
This is how you remind me  
  
Of what I really am//  
  
I brought this on myself. I should have sensed the hints a long time before. But I was too blind, completely in awe of the fact that you cared so much about me. The way your hands traveled over my body, the way your eyes would look into mine, the way you never loosened your hold on me until the morning... that told me everything I needed to know. That told me I mattered.  
  
  
  
//It's not like you to say sorry  
  
I was waiting on a different story  
  
This time I'm mistaken  
  
For handing you  
  
A heart worth breaking  
  
And I've been wrong  
  
I've been down  
  
Into the bottom of every bottle  
  
These five words in my head  
  
Scream  
  
Are we having fun yet?//  
  
So now we're here. And you're finally looking at me. Only that's not really you, now. That's Abyssinian. Your gloved hands are still holding the katana, and there's a splash of blood along one of your perfect cheeks. I don't even catch your words.  
  
"—standing there, Balinese?"  
  
"Please, Aya... We're alone. Can we just.. talk?"  
  
"No."  
  
"J-just for a moment, don't you think you c-could just spare a minute to—"  
  
You were already walking away. I always fell apart around you. But I knew why you were cold. Because you –did- care. You cared enough to not want to hurt me more. And you also cared enough about him to want to protect yourself from letting yourself hurt me.  
  
Gods, I'm giving myself a headache. But maybe that's just because of the tears. It always hurts, when I cry.  
  
"Can't you just explain it to me?"  
  
"There's nothing to explain."  
  
So cold. But it doesn't help, does it. I'm hurting you, by pushing you like this.  
  
I don't want to hurt you. I love you so much that it tears me apart inside.  
  
I love you as much as you love him.  
  
  
  
//Are we having fun yet?  
  
Are we having fun yet?//  
  
It was so wonderful, at the beginning. I was in such utter bliss. It was worth this.  
  
I'm alone again. You've already disappeared off of the rooftop, those graceful serpentine movements of your body silent except for the swish of the black leather coat that buckles you into the mask you need to get through these nights.  
  
Can he keep you safe?  
  
Can he possibly?  
  
Stupid, stupid Kudou. Of course he can. Better than I ever could. Because he's not wounded. Not in the same way as I am.  
  
That's what it comes down to. We're too alike. We're too broken. I would never be able to heal you, even though you would be able to heal me. With every bruise, every kiss, every touch, I felt more alive.  
  
So now, when you don't even want to look at me because it would mark you, it locks me out completely.  
  
And I'm kneeling here alone, in my tears, with that beautiful moon grinning obscenely down at me and those stars laughing at my stupidity, and I just push up my sunglasses.  
  
I just tell myself, it's all a game.  
  
Just a game.  
  
  
  
//...Are we having fun yet?// 


End file.
